I Wasn't Always Tough
by Wherever Girl
Summary: He used to be a nice kid, but life made him tough... and a friend helped him stay strong. Set in Puggsy's POV, takes place during "I'm Smarter Than You Think"


And now, because I can't sleep, another one-shot plot.

Disclaimer: Meh.

XxX

I wasn't always a wise-guy. I didn't always pick fights, insult idiots, act like a jerk, and do other things that caused me to get myself beat on a regular basis. I used to be a nice kid, only thinking about being a tough-guy when I felt scared, though it didn't always work out and I ended up calling for my mom. I used to rely on my parents to handle my problems, rather than having the nerve to do it myself. I wasn't always prone to violence, smart remarks, or attitude.

You don't believe me, huh? Didn't expect you to. This all was back when I was six- before my parents went into debt. As a kid, I didn't really understand it that much- all I knew was that my parents needed money and wanted to help, going as far as trying to lend them my piggybank even though it only had a few quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies in it, barely enough to equal five dollars. I didn't know that Dad's job wasn't paying enough, and Mom had to quit her part-time job in order to take care of things at home- me being at the top of that list. It wasn't long before they were up to their necks in unpaid bank loans and could hardly afford to keep food on the table, and before I knew it some people were coming over, telling my parents they had found someone to take care of me.

The last thing I remembered after that was my parents hugging me, promising they would find a way to get me back and that we'd see each other again.

It was then I realized my parents were so broke, they couldn't afford to have a kid, and I was being sent into fostercate care.

XxX

I knew my life was going to be a nightmare the moment I met my fostercate parents. The 'mom' was a social worker, spending more time at her job than she did at home, and I only saw her late in the evenings. The 'dad'… well, he wasn't a dad at all. He was a real goon. While his wife worked all day, he sat around, eating junk food in front of the television, and was never in a good mood whenever he saw me. I had no idea what to do the first time he struck me- I didn't even know what I did wrong, only mispronounced a couple words like I often do. All I could do back then was run and hide in my room, curling up tight and quietly begging my real parents to come help me.

After a while, I gave up… especially when the goon busted the lock on my door and knew all my hiding places. When the first year had passed, I stopped relying on my parents, knowing I had to look out for myself now, and started to toughen myself up. When he smacked me, I forced myself not to cry, keeping a stiff upper-lip. He smacked me every time I mispronounced a word, but I didn't let that change my vocabulization- rather, I added on to it, making up my own words just to annoy him and make him see I wasn't going to let him push me around. I even came up with a good word for him: 'ignorpotomas'.

You're probably wondering why I never went to the fostercate mom. I did once, after he first smacked me- he only gave some story about how I was 'saying words that shouldn't be said' and was just showing some discipline. Then, once she bought that story, he threatened that if I ever ratted him out again, I wouldn't live to see the next morning. Back then the threat scared me and I kept my mouth shut- nowadays I kept my mouth shut because the sap always gave some alibi and the woman bought it, not to mention she cared more about her own job than the fact that the kid she was supposed to take care of had just lost some of his baby-teeth several months before they were meant to come out.

So, as if you haven't figured it out, my life officially sucked in that fostercate 'home'…

Up until a new kid moved into the neighborhood- who turned out to be a werewolf…

…then my life got worser.

I was thirteen at the time, the summer almost over, and that's when a moving van and a new family pulled up on the block. I was sitting in the backyard in a lawn-chair- the only place where I could find some peace and tranquilization from the big gorilla I was forced to live with- when I saw the new kid walking into his backyard, looking around at the ground like he was collecting dirt or something. He was kind of a lame-brain, mistaking me for a couple years younger because of my size, and I had to snap at him for it.

"_How old are you?"_ he had asked.

"_Thirteen. How old did you think I was?"_ I scoffed.

"_Eleven… sorry, I didn't think-"_

"_You must not think much then. FYI, not everyone's age has to match their height, you ignorpotomas."_

"_Ignor… is that even a word?"_

I fumed, then told him to go back to digging in the dirt. Sure, you can call me touchy, but when you're growing up with a guy who whips you every time you can't say a word right, it becomes a habit. I went back inside, deciding to find something to eat, when the goon entered. "I saw you talking to that new kid," he grunted. "Didn't say any trash about me, did you?"

"Didn't even bring you up," I sneered.

"If you do, be sure to say something good, or else."

"If I do bring you up, that family will move out of state-"

He smacked me and shoved me out of the kitchen. "For that, you don't get lunch, you little rat."

I only sneered, walking up to my room- where I had my own stash of junkfood hidden in a suitcase in my closet. Over the years, I learned how to hide a few things around the room, from hiding pictures of my parents in my sock drawer to taping dollar bills I save on the inside of a lampshade (no use him turning it on and seeing the shadows, considering the bulb burned out years ago). …Tell anyone about these hiding places, and I'll knock your teeth out, gums and all.

I stayed up in my room, sneaking out through the window later that evening to the backyard- having learned how to walk quietly on the lower-roof and slide down the rain pipe- and sat in a lawn chair, reading a comic book that I had read a thousand times already (considering it was the only one I had, I couldn't complain). I was enjoying the solitaire when I heard a voice. "Hey," someone said, a couple feet away from me.

I looked out the corner of my eye… and my heart stopped, seeing a werewolf standing right beside me!

I reacted calmly…

And chucked a rock at him when he got too close.

I didn't exactly disremember everything that happened after that- all I could configure was that the werewolf wasn't going to eat me (yet), and that he was also the new kid I had met earlier, only he didn't remember (if he did, he sure did a swell job of playing dumb).

And then I ran back inside the house and, for the first time in a while, quietly begged my parents could help me.

Like always, no help came.

XxX

There were only two people I trusted in this town- and they were now friends with the wolf-kid, after he enrolled in school a few weeks later. Some of the kids thought he was cool, others were kind of intimidated- me, I just found him to be a pest. After living next door to him that summer, I came to notice he was more of a goof-wolf, and not much of a threat… not to mention his human-half wasn't too bright neither. As for my friends, Biff and Kim, they didn't see him as a threat at all- they thought he was pretty nice, werewolf or no.

Which I didn't understand. "I don't get it, Biff. What do you and Kim see in that new kid and that kooky werewolf?" I asked Biff one day, as we were sitting out front.

"We both think they're pretty cool," Biff answered with a shrug. "Fangs might not be so tough, but he's still a lot of fun, and Fangface is just the same- he's nothing like those werewolves you'd see in movies. If you hung out with them, you'd probably like them too."

I found that doubtable, and rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious. I heard you blew them off earlier today when Kim asked if you wanted to hang out, that was pretty cold."

I remembered the saturation- Kim and Fangs were on my doorstep, and that fostercate-goon was eyeing them from the window… mostly eyeing Kim (which made me want to punch his lights out). He hated it whenever she and I were together, ever since that day she found out about my abuse, like he was waiting for me to bring it up, or worried she'd go to the police again. …But I trusted her not to say anything, having told her a long time ago.

"_But he's abusing you! We got to do something about it!" _she had said after I advised her to keep it between us.

"_Don't even try. He's already convinced the cops of being innocent… plus, if you say anything again, he might hurt you next. Please don't say anything,"_ I had replied, wincing a bit.

"_Alright… but…"_

"_It's okay. I'll be fine."_

Kim was the only person who I could trust, being the first friend I ever made, and the first girl to kiss me- breathe a word and you'll be wearing an iron lung.

"How come you didn't want to hang out, huh?" Biff demanded, snapping me back to reality.

"I just… I had things to do." I lied. The real reason was because, if I went out with Kim or Fangs, the goon would think we were planning on ratting him out again and would no doubt come after us. "I gotta get back… the fostercate dad doesn't want me out late,"

Biff sighed. "Sure… but think about what I said, alright? You could at least give Fangs and/or Fangface a chance."

XxX

I'd give them a chance alright.

A chance to meet their maker!

Once I got home, it was getting dark, and the goon chewed me out for being out past curfew, all the while demanding if I was with Kim again, and making sure I didn't tell the cops. …A few smart remarks later, I was sent up to my room with a bruised arm and no dinner, which was why I smuggled a bag of potato chips out to the backyard with me.

I lied there, looking up at the stars, getting close to drifting to sleep… when I heard snarling, and that weird-wolf leaped over the fence. "Ah, great. What do you want now, nitwolf?" I sneered, not in the mood for any of his games.

"I've got a bone to pick with you, Pugs." he replied, growling as he came closer…

My heart was racing and I knew things weren't going to end well, but after teaching myself how to be a tough-guy, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Get picking, then."

I blacked out when he lunged at me, picking me up and shaking me. The only thing I could do was thrash in his grip, threatening him to put me down otherwise I'd turn him into a rug. I managed to pick up a stick and hit him in the head, freeing myself and scrambling back, keeping an eye on him…

Seeing his gaze had fallen upon a bag of potato chips, and then he looked at me, licking his lips, a crazy look in his eye.

"Oh no…" I whimpered.

If you're wondering what happened to me next… please don't ask. All I can say is, being inside a werewolf's mouth is no treat- and if my mother heard the words I was shouting at that moment, she'd be shoving soap in my mouth by the bars.

I heard shouting from Mrs. Fangsworth (the werewolf's mom) just then, and- I don't know how she did it- managed to get me out of her son's mouth. I stood up, soaked with drool, wishing I had some silver on me at that moment…

…noticing the goon watching from the window, rubbing his chin.

"Sorry." the werewolf was forced to say, by orders of his mom.

"W-Whatever," I stammered, too unnerved to really shout out any death-threats.

Mrs. Fangsworth dragged her son back to the house by the ear, while the goon stepped out, approaching me. "So. Got into a bit of trouble with that werewolf next door, huh?" he asked, slyly.

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" I sneered.

He only smirked, which only meant trouble. "Quite a bit, boy. Quite. A. Bit."

I backed away from him, heading back to the house.

"Don't take a shower, boy. That smell of wolf-breath covers the stench of your attitude,"

I ran up to my room, diving under the covers, hearing the man chuckling outside, obviously brewing up a scheme. Meanwhile, the werewolf next door had it out for me, and my only two friends considered him a good guy? In a position like this, only one thought came to mind: _Mommy…_

XxX

Life. Was. Horrifyable.

Apparently, the fostercate-goon deciding to up his level of torturization. Rather than just smacking me and sending me to my room with nothing to eat, he went as far as knocking me out with a lead pipe whenever I insulted him, throwing a rock at me whenever I back-talked, strangled me every time I mispronounced a word, and pushing me down the stairs. He was showing no mercy.

He then demanded I call up Kim and invite her over… but I wasn't going to bring her into this mess. "Do it, boy. Call up that pretty little girl, and I'll show you how a real playboy acts," he taunted me, holding his belt in his hand.

"I'd rather chew leather than give her the displeasure of being in your company, you creep!" I snapped, storming outside. I stood in the yard, knowing that goon was going to let me have it, and I had to think quick…

I couldn't think quick enough, because he caught me by the arm, whipping me with his belt, striking my back, my sides, my face… I fell to my knees, and that's when he kicked me in the stomach, then punched me in the face. He said something to me, some sort of remark, but my eardrums were pounding and I didn't really make out much of it, only "…you'll die next time, got it?" and then he spat at me before going back inside.

I could only lay there, my entire body aching, the fall air stinging cold against the red marks on my skin where the belt had struck. I shut my eyes, silently praying that it was all just a nightmare, that I would wake up and be back with my real parents… but I knew it wasn't going to happen. Gathering up my strength and ignoring the pain, I stood up, staggering a bit, and my gaze shifted upwards…

Where I saw Fangs, looking out his window, and I could see a look of sheer horror on his face. When our eyes met, he quickly turned away, probably thinking he had seen too much and was afraid he'd get his own kind of beating. _Hope he can keep a secret… _I thought to myself, but found it hard to believe, then turned and walked over to the lawn chair, lying down, drifting off…

XxX

I was jolted awake when that large goon returned, grabbing me by the shirt collar and throwing me against the fence. I let out a small cry of pain, but choked out the rest, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing my agony. "Just making sure you were still alive," he said, chuckling. "You'd better be up in your room before my wife gets home- she may think that werewolf ate you again,"

_So that's why he's acting extremely brutal, _I realized, watching him go back inside, the smirk remaining on his face. _He can rough me up whenever he likes, and blame it on the kid next door…_

I heard a back door shut from the other side of the fence, and I had a feeling that either Fangs saw everything again, or Fangface was on the prowl. I didn't hear any snarling, just breathing on the other side, and noticed a skinny shadow peeking over the fence in the moonlight.

"_Don't tell."_ I told him quietly, making sure the goon wasn't spying on us this time. Thankfully, he was sitting in front of the television and didn't notice anything.

"_Why not?" _Fangs whispered.

"_The last time anyone said anything, he only hurt me worser."_

I had to explain to him about Kim, and how I ended up with the brute in the first place. Bringing up my parents, I winced a bit, but held back tears. We talked about it for a couple more minutes, the kid bringing up some good suggestions, though I turned them down knowing ways they could backfire (considering I had already tried them).

"I'd better go in, the fostercate mom will be home soon," I sighed, standing up to go in and deal with the nightmare that was my life.

"Puggsy?" Fangs quietly said.

"What?"

He paused, and I could tell he was nervous. "Um… you can hang out with me, if you want. I don't think your foster-dad would try to hurt you over here,"

It wasn't too bad an offer- being close to a werewolf sounded dangerous, but anything was better than that goon… but I didn't want to bring trouble upon the kid, not to mention if he turned into a werewolf and attacked me, that goon would have proof to add to his alibi. "No thanks." I said bitterly, then went inside, sneaking up to my room and lying in bed, once again praying for a miracle.

XxX

What I never expected was that one thing I was afraid of turned out to be the miracle that freed me of my burden.

It was late at night, my fostercate-mom working a double-shift, leaving me with the goon. Tonight, he threw me into the backyard, beating me. The reason?

"_My wife is starting to think that werewolf has nothing to do with your bruises, boy. I want to tell her about how he ate you, and convince her how savage he is." _he told me, pacing solemnly, a wooden bat in hand.

"_No." _I said firmly.

"_Why not?! He ate you, didn't he?!"_

"_Yeah, but he's still a good kid…"_

"_Good kid?! He's a monster!"_

"_He's not a monster… you're the monster, you gigantisized ignorpotomas!"_

He was striking me hard with the bat, and my vision went dark. All I could feel was constant pain, as he grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back. _This is it. Today, I'm going to die… _was all I could think, and tears streamed down my face as I tried not to cry out.

There was a snarl just then, and someone knocked the goon away. I lay on the ground, my vision fading in and out, the only thing I could see clearly was Fangface standing in front of me, keeping the fostercate-goon away. He sliced the bat in half, rendering that brute defenseless… and if I had the energy, I'd laugh at the look of terror on his face- the look that he always put on my face when I was a little kid- knowing that for the first time in his life, the tables had turned, and now he was at someone's mercy.

Fangface's parents came running over, hearing the commotion, and the werewolf attacked the man when he took out a knife to threaten them. He held him down until the police arrived, and by that time, I managed to get up. "Are you okay?" Fangface asked, kneeling at my side.

"Yeah, I didn't need your help…" I replied… though this time, I decided to tone down the tough-guy attitude. "But thanks for getting that creep off my back."

"(grr) No problem, Pugs. No problem." he then offered me his paw. Hesitantly, I took it, allowing him to help me back on my feet, and he helped me walk when I started to stumble.

"You're welcome to stay at our house until your mom gets home," Mrs. Fangsworth offered.

"I'll be fine, ma'am, now that that creepo is behind bars,"

"Still, we insist. No one should be alone after the experience you've lived through," Mr. Fangsworth replied.

Apparently, these people don't take 'no' for an answer, so I decided to spend the night, considering my foster-mom wasn't going to be home until midnight- or sooner, if she got the news that her husband was now in prison for trying to murdify a kid. I sat up in Fangface's bedroom, and- since this was the first time we were hanging out and I was more used to swapping insults and threats- everything felt kind of awkward, so all I could do was sit there quietly.

"Say, Pugs, can I ask you something?" Fangface finally said.

"What is it?" I replied.

"Well… last week. Back in my old hometown, whenever I'd attack someone, they'd turn me in. How come you never told anyone?"

"Are you kiddifying? If I told anyone, they'd think that goon was telling the truth. I wasn't going to blab and give the guy a reason to pulverize me." I calmed down, reminding myself to watch the attitude. "Besides, there's a good kid inside of you, and he doesn't deserve to get run out of town."

He smiled, and for a minute I could have sworn a tear came to his eye- but, like me, he kept a tough image. "Thanks Pugs."

"Don't mention it, Fangface."

XxX

Would you believe that from that point on, we became best friends? (If not, then you must have been brained with a cinderblock as a kid). The years went by and after graduation, we traveled with Biff and Kim, facing every creepifying lunatic the world could throw at us- none of them being as bad as that goon, but still pretty nasty. I still acted like a tough-guy, sometimes to Fangs just to remind him who's boss and keep him (and Fangface) in line, though sometimes it backfires every time he looks at the moon… and the nit-wolf still tries to eat me every time he sees or hears food, which is a total pain. But, no matter how much he aggravates me, I still watch his back just as well as he watches mine.

We visited every city, every country, every continent- even traveling into space a couple times (the guys in Houston can vouch for us, if you don't believe it). Though one day, when visiting my old hometown, we came across a surprise.

"This way, Pugs, this way." Fangs urged me, guiding me along… having blindfolded me for some weird reason.

"Fangs, I swear if you don't take this thing off me this minute-" I began, but didn't have to finish because he pulled it off… and I could only stare.

A couple stood in front of us, both of them looking a bit nervous. "We got a call from social services, something about a couple who have seen their son all over the news." Fangs explained. "And, well… we looked them up."

The woman looked at me, smiling, eyes watering, her husband just the same. "Hello, Puggsy," she said quietly.

I smiled, the same way. "Hi, mom…" I said quietly, and for the first time in years, finally got to hug my parents again. I looked over at Fangs, who only smiled, and to this day I still can't think of how to thank him enough.

You can be the strongest, toughest guy in the world, but the only way you can tell how strong a man is by what's in his heart. …And believe me, my heart is full.

**FIN**

XxX


End file.
